


Sweet Child O' Mine

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [62]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: De-Aged, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:41:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7866010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan Lorne's encounter with a malfunctioning Ancient device turns the whole expedition upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Any, de-aged by an Ancient device."
> 
> Elizabeth has the strangest dream, and reality gets even stranger.

Elizabeth stirred when the door to her quarters hissed open.  
  
“What…?”  
  
“Mama, I had a bad dream.”  
  
Elizabeth felt the bed dip slightly beneath someone else’s weight, and then someone tiny and warm snuggled against her side.  
  
She’d had dreams like this before, about the children she’d never had, might never have now that she and Simon were over.  
  
She patted the warm body absently and said, “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” And went back to sleep.  
  
When she really woke, it was because her bedside radio was buzzing.  
  
She scooped it up, fitted it over her ear. “Go for Weir.”  
  
“Ma’am,” Sheppard said, “Lorne is missing.”  
  
“Missing?” Elizabeth echoed.  
  
“He failed to report for duty this morning. I dispatched Marines to his quarters. His bed is empty, looks like it was slept in, but he’s nowhere to be found. Chuck in Control says the Life Signs Detector is reading the appropriate number of life signs given how many teams we have off-world, and none of the life signs are in a remote part of the city.”  
  
“So Major Lorne is still in the city?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“In a populated area.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Just not in his quarters.”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “And you’re sure this isn’t a case of him oversleeping his alarm after a - vigorous evening.”  
  
“His Marines assure me there is no one with whom Lorne would be - vigorous of an evening, ma’am.”  
  
And then a little voice said, “Mama?”  
  
Elizabeth had a very bad feeling. “Sheppard,” she said, “get a medical team to my quarters. Immediately.”  
  
There was a pause, and then he said, “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
Elizabeth remembered her strange dream from the night before, only there was a little boy, maybe five years old, drowning in a USAF t-shirt, sitting on the bed beside her, rubbing his eyes. He had big blue eyes and messy dark hair.  
  
And he was wearing Evan Lorne’s dogtags.  
  
“Mama, I’m hungry.”  
  
“Hey, little guy,” Elizabeth began, and she was suddenly terribly conscious of the fact that was wearing a t-shirt and panties and not much else, “I’m not your mama.”  
  
A thunderous expression creased the child’s brow. “Yes you are.”  
  
Elizabeth reached out, groped for a pair of pants, squirmed into them under the covers. “Look at me,” she said. “Do I look like your mother?”  
  
Stupid question. She had dark hair and blue eyes, just like him.  
  
“Mama, not funny.” He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at her.  
  
Elizabeth’s door hissed open - just like last night - and Sheppard, Lorne’s marines, Beckett, and two nurses spilled into her room.  
  
The child launched himself at Sheppard, kicking and hitting and shouting, “Baby-killer! Go away!”  
  
Sheppard managed to get the child, letting loose with frankly horrifying epithets, into a control hold.  
  
“Where did this kid come from?” he demanded.  
  
Beckett stared at the child in dismay. “Dr. Weir, are you saying -?”

“I thought it was a dream,” Elizabeth said. “A child came to me, called me ‘mama’, said he’d had a nightmare.”  
  
The Marines, who’d all flinched back at the words _baby-killer_ , sighed.  
  
“Major Lorne was raised on a hippie commune in California, ma’am,” Stevens said.  
  
Sheppard stared down at the kid in his arms, who’d given up fighting but was glaring at him mutinously. “Lorne?”  
  
And the kid’s glare softened. “How do you know my daddy’s last name?”  
  
The Marines exchanged looks.  
  
“He never talks about his father,” Stevens said.  
  
“I thought his dad died when he was little,” Coughlin added.  
  
“What’s your name, son?” Beckett asked gently.  
  
“Evan.”  
  
“Well, damn,” Sheppard said. He eyed Stevens. “What happened on your last mission?”  
  
“We went through the gate, brought back a piece of Ancient tech for McKay, checked out fine at medical, and wrote our reports,” Steven said. “Routine.”  
  
“Ancient tech.” Elizabeth tapped her radio. “Rodney, we need you.”  
  
Rodney stared at little Lorne who, once he was assured that none of the soldiers on base were baby killers (were heroes like his dad), accepted his new situation with aplomb. Beckett reported that Lorne was a perfectly healthy five-year-old. Heightmeyer had no clue why Lorne insisted Elizabeth was his mama. Lorne seemed happy enough, braiding Cadman’s hair while he sat on the exam table in the infirmary.  
  
“You think the device did this?” Rodney asked.  
  
“It’s the only explanation we’ve got,” Beckett said.  
  
“Rubber band.” Lorne held out a hand.  
  
Cadman gave him a tiny rubber band she’d bullied out of one of the younger marines who was still in braces.  
  
“How does a kid who thinks soldiers are baby killers go to being an Air Force officer?” Sheppard asked quietly.  
  
“Maybe something to do with his father,” Elizabeth said.  
  
While Rodney and the science department looked over the machine Lorne’s team had brought back from the planet, Sheppard scrambled to find someone who could cover Lorne’s duties, and Elizabeth scrambled to find people who could watch Lorne.  
  
He insisted on staying with her.  
  
When he wasn’t trying to defend her from ‘baby-killers’, he was a remarkably placid child. After he braided Cadman’s hair, he braided Teyla’s hair, and then Marie’s hair, and just when Elizabeth was wondering if every woman on base would have to submit to her hair being braided, Ronon arrived.  
  
Lorne was immediately curious about all his tattoos, and Ronon let Lorne climb all over him, more amused than annoyed.  
  
While no one was sure how Lorne had gone from hippie child to straight-laced Air Force officer, it became readily apparent why he was such a damn good XO. He wandered around the city - Ronon in tow as his official caretaker - and said hello to literally everyone, and when he joined Elizabeth for lunch, he reported his findings.  
  
He could remember the name of every single person he’d met, could recall what each of them had been working on, and had gleaned at least one personal detail about each of them, details Elizabeth had never known, like that Kusanagi was working on an embroidered image of the city, or that Zelenka did origami with bubblegum wrappers.  
  
Lorne babbled away happily, unaware of the breadth of his feat. He inquired politely after how Elizabeth was doing, and when the meal was finished, he kissed her on the cheek, carefully stacked her tray atop his, and carried it back to the return line.  
  
Teyla had managed to scrounge up some Athosian children’s clothes for him, and he looked a bit like a mini-Ronon as he accompanied the man through the halls on his quest to continue learning about everyone in Atlantis.  
  
“Well?” Elizabeth asked when she stopped by the lab.  
  
“Best as we can tell,” Rodney said, “the effects should wear off in about twenty-four hours.”

“How can you tell?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
Rodney tapped the device, and text appeared mid-air. He pointed to a section. “There.”  
  
Elizabeth could read Ancient just fine. “Temporary. Right. How come it affected Lorne and not the others?”  
  
Rodney pointed to another section of text.  
  
Elizabeth peered closer. “Stress.”  
  
“It’s a stupid vacation machine,” Rodney said. “Stressed out? Take a day. Be a kid.”  
  
Heightmeyer hadn’t thought Lorne was all that stressed out, as he’d always appeared perfectly fit for duty.  
  
“Well, if the effects don’t wear off, you’ll need to keep looking,” Elizabeth said.  
  
Rodney nodded and turned off the text. “In the meantime, the desalination lines are clogged again. Zelenka, get me Ambrose!”  
  
When Elizabeth met Lorne and Ronon for dinner, Lorne reported on his further findings in the city, and also that Ronon was an artist, and he and Ronon had been drawing.  
  
The drawing Lorne gave her was - remarkable. For a child so young, he had impressive skill, a good sense of perspective and proportion, a fine eye for detail. He’d drawn a house on a meadow with the ocean in the background and fields spread out to one side of it, and standing in front of the house, Elizabeth, only she was dressed in a flowing skirt and a peasant blouse, and she was holding hands with a little boy - obviously Lorne - and an older girl.  
  
“Thank you. I’ll hang it on my wall,” she said.  
  
Lorne beamed and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
Ronon wore Lorne out by playing tag with him (and a dozen Marines who’d been easily convinced to help out). Lorne insisted Ronon sing him a lullabye, and the song Ronon sang was one Elizabeth had never heard, she suspected one from his childhood, but Lorne fell asleep soon enough.  
  
Elizabeth saw something longing in Ronon’s gaze as he glanced over his shoulder one last time at Lorne’s tiny sleeping form, and then they stepped out of his quarters.  
  
“I made sure he brushed his teeth and washed his face,” Ronon said quietly.  
  
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.  
  
“The honor was mine.” Ronon turned away.  
  
Elizabeth watched him go and wondered if he’d had children back on Sateda. She’d never dared to ask.  
  
The next morning, Evan Lorne reported for duty like he always did, none the wiser for his time spent in childhood. Elizabeth checked up on him as he went about his day, and she made sure Heightmeyer kept an eye on him and his stress levels.  
  
She put the picture he’d given her up on her wall, and sometimes at night, when she fell asleep, she'd hear a boy say, _Mama._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, Ronon Dex, becoming a father."
> 
> Ronon becomes a father by virtue of a very brief, one-person vote.
> 
> Post-Coup D'Etat.

Ronon became a father by vote.  
  
Everyone in the infirmary stared at the little boy. Teyla knew he was really Major Lorne, but so tiny and wide-eyed, it was difficult to reconcile him with the neatly-groomed, efficient, subtly sarcastic soldier who existed to help John make Atlantis run smoothly.  
  
“Mama,” he said, tugging on Elizabeth’s sleeve.  
  
She looked gutted.  
  
“Where’s your daddy?” she asked.  
  
“Doesn’t she mean _who’s your daddy?_ ” John muttered.  
  
Heightmeyer actually kicked him in the ankle.  
  
Evan smiled up at Ronon and said, “Daddy.”  
  
And that was that.  
  
“He did not acknowledge Ronon as so the last time this happened,” Teyla said.  
  
Elizabeth swallowed hard. “How did this happen? He hasn’t been anywhere near the machine. We locked it up. We -”  
  
“Obviously need to study it more.” Rodney looked less than pleased at having been hauled out of bed at an ungodly hour, and not even the coffee John had pressed on him seemed to make him feel better. “I’ll go look at the user manual.”  
  
“Thank you.” Elizabeth glanced at Evan, who smiled brightly at her. “Ronon, would you -?”  
  
Ronon opened his arms, and Evan launched himself into them. He hoisted Evan up onto his shoulders and said, “Want to go play games, or draw?”  
  
“Draw,” Evan said. And Ronon carried him out of the infirmary.  
  
Heightmeyer cast Elizabeth a worried look, but Elizabeth just patted Rodney on the shoulder and hurried away. Rodney finished his coffee, and John handed him a second one, and together they headed for the lab. Teyla trailed along with them, because she had nothing better to do, and did not know how she could contribute to caring for Evan, as he was in Ronon's capable hands.  
  
Rodney fired up the text display on the machine and skimmed through it, sipping on his coffee and humming to himself as he read. He nearly choked on his coffee.  
  
“What?” John asked.  
  
Rodney sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Should’ve read this closer. This isn’t a user manual - it’s a warning. The machine malfunctions. Instead of giving someone a one-time vacation to their childhood, every time someone zapped by the machine stresses out, hey presto, temporary childhood again.”  
  
“Again?” Teyla asked.  
  
Rodney nodded.  
  
John raised his eyebrows. “So in the middle of a crisis, we could be down a major and up a preschooler?”  
  
“Kindergartener, more like,” Rodney said, and Teyla wondered at how the Earthers had so many classifications for the ages of their children beyond mere numbers of years lived. “But no. It’s like a migraine. Doesn’t strike till the crisis is done.”  
  
“Lorne did just get back from a stint as a POW in a Genii prison,” John murmured. “What’s this imprinting on random people as parents?”  
  
“Not random people,” Rodney said, scanning the text further. “He imprints on the female in charge as a mother and the best male caregiver as a father.”  
  
“Female in charge?” Teyla echoed. “So if Elizabeth were to turn temporary command over to me and go off-world and Major Lorne were to suffer acute stress, I would -”  
  
“Be mommy? Yep.” Rodney reached out and swiped Kusanagi’s mug of coffee, which she protested with a squeak.  
  
“How does the machine even know that?” John asked.  
  
“It’s all built into Lorne,” Rodney said. “Whatever his stress levels are, whoever he acknowledges as the female in charge.”  
  
“And the best caregiver?” John pressed.  
  
“Imprinted based on who took the best care of him during his first stint as a child,” Rodney said.  
  
First stint. Then this would happen more.  
  
“Can we cure Lorne?” John peered at the text that Rodney was scrolling through.

“I don’t know. I need to read this more closely. Get me more coffee.” Rodney didn’t look away from the text.  
  
John nodded and went to get Rodney more coffee and, as a kindness, a refill for Kusanagi.  
  
Teyla would be no help, so she went to find Ronon. It was easy enough to figure out where Ronon and Evan were, because Evan was a very charming child, and the women on base were quite enamored of him, so all Teyla had to do was question some women who had little braids in their hair.  
  
Ronon and Evan were in one of the rooms set aside for recreation and socialization, where teams could have movie nights or game nights. Instead of sitting at the table or watching a movie, Evan and Ronon were down on the floor, both sprawled on their stomachs and coloring earnestly on a single piece of paper.  
  
“This,” Ronon said quietly, “is the Grand Palace of Sateda.” He murmured something Teyla didn’t quite understand, and she realized Ronon was speaking Satedan.  
  
Evan repeated the phrase back to Ronon very carefully, and Ronon smiled. “That’s right. Good pronunciation. The Grand Palace is where the Chieftain lives.”  
  
“Chieftain? Like the king?” Evan asked.  
  
“Yeah. Like a king.” Ronon set down one colored pencil, picked up another. “And this, right here, is the guard station. Every soldier in the Satedan Planetary Defense Force had to serve as a guard at least once in their lives.”  
  
“Did you, Daddy?”  
  
“Yeah, I did.”  
  
“Did you get to see the Chieftain?”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Was he super cool?”  
  
“The coolest, buddy.” Ronon ruffled Evan’s hair gently, and Evan leaned into the caress.  
  
Teyla saw that she was not needed here, either, and she turned to go, but Evan said, “Aunty Teyla! Come draw with us!”  
  
Ronon lifted his head, and Teyla studied his expression, not wanting to intrude, but he beckoned her closer, so she sat on the floor beside them, accepted the piece of paper Evan handed her, and began to color.  
  
While Teyla had done more than her fair share of caring for children on Athos, once she stepped up to take her father’s place as her people’s leader, such duties had been taken up by other youth, and she didn’t know what to expect of an Earther child like Evan. He seemed content to have her follow along with whatever he did with Ronon.  
  
Teyla hadn’t known what to expect with Ronon, either, knowing him only as a soldier and a Runner. Ronon as a father was caring, patient, gentle. When Evan was finished coloring, Ronon was firm in insisting that Evan tidy up the colored pencils and paper (Evan insisted on keeping the picture of the Grand Palace they’d drawn together, to give to Mama). But then Ronon asked Evan what he wanted to do next, gave him options to walk around the city, to help Carson roll bandages in the infirmary, to play tag with some off-duty Marines, or to learn songs.  
  
After some consideration, Evan asked if Ronon would teach him songs while they walked through the city, so Ronon offered Evan his hand, and Teyla followed them as they headed for a balcony route the Marines liked to run, one that was long and circled most of the habitable sections of the city and offered lovely views of the ocean. While Ronon walked, he sang, one line at a time, and had Evan sing the line back to him. Ronon had a surprisingly pleasant voice. Evan’s ability to hold a tune was a little wobbly, but with each repetition he improved, and soon he and Ronon were singing together in lovely harmony, words Teyla didn’t know. The sound made her smile.

After Evan had learned several songs, he asked if they could go visit Carson in the infirmary. Ronon kept Evan on task, rolling bandages, while Evan quizzed Carson about life in his homeland and being a doctor. Ronon made sure Evan thanked Carson when they were finished, and it was time for lunch.  
  
In the mess hall, the Marines serving food were pleased to see little Evan. They called him bro and buddy and gave him high fives and an extra serving of jello. At the table, Teyla expected Ronon to insist Evan eat his vegetables first and use a knife and fork, but instead he let Evan climb onto his lap and showed him how to eat with his hands. Neatly. Picking the food into small pieces and eating one bite at a time. He explained that eating too fast would make Evan’s stomach hurt, and if his stomach hurt, how would he play tag with the Marines after lunch?  
  
Evan watched Ronon closely, imitated his every move. In his children’s clothes - the Athosian ones left over from his last stint as a child - he looked like a smaller version of Ronon, could have been Ronon’s son, but for his blue eyes. While Evan ate, Ronon spoke in soft tones about food on Sateda, and the feasts he’d been to, and the treats he’d sneak from the kitchens when he was a child.  
  
It was in the middle of a spirited game of Marine Tag that Rodney radioed in with a possible cure.  
  
The cure didn’t work, but the loud explosion and flare of flame startled Evan into tears. Ronon scooped him up, smoothing one massive hand over his small back, and carried him out of the lab, murmuring to him softly.  
  
Teyla looked at John, who shrugged helplessly, so she went to catch up with Ronon.  
  
Ronon was kneeling before Evan in the hallway.  
  
“Are you all right?” Ronon asked.  
  
Evan nodded, but he was still sniffling.  
  
“Does it hurt anywhere?”  
  
Evan shook his head.  
  
“Are you still afraid?”  
  
Evan hesitated, then nodded.  
  
Ronon gathered Evan into his arms once more. “You’re safe. I’m here.”  
  
Evan clung to him and whispered, “I love you, Daddy.”  
  
Teyla was sure she was the only one who saw Ronon’s eyes close tightly, saw him swallow hard. “Love you too, Evan.”  
  
Then Evan pulled back. “Let’s go visit Kate! I want to braid her hair.” He tugged on Ronon’s hand, and Ronon staggered to his feet.  
  
“We have to make sure she’s not busy,” Ronon said, but Evan dragged him away, and Teyla followed. She was sure she could get rubber bands from Corporal Stinson if necessary.  
  
While Evan braided Heightmeyer’s hair, she talked to Ronon and Teyla about what she’d learned from Rodney.  
  
“He still knows who his biological parents are,” she said. “But they’re like distant, faded memories. It’s fascinating, the way the machine has rewritten him.”  
  
“Turn your head, please,” Evan said, and Heightmeyer obeyed.  
  
“Maybe not rewritten him,” Ronon said, “so much as made him who he really is, in his soul.”  
  
“Maybe,” Teyla agreed.  
  
At the end of the day, Rodney admitted defeat. “I read the manual. I can’t figure out a cure. The effects will wear off, as always. I’ll keep working in the meantime,” he told Elizabeth. “But till then -”  
  
He gestured to where Ronon was helping Evan do a handstand.  
  
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line for a moment. “Yes, please keep working. Dr. Heightmeyer, what can we do to minimize recurrences of this?”  
  
“I’ll schedule more regular sessions with Evan,” Heightmeyer said.  
  
“Maybe,” Teyla said, “Evan ought to have regular sessions with Ronon.”  
  
Ronon stepped back, let go of Evan’s feet, and Evan was perfectly vertical for two seconds before he toppled over. Ronon swooped in and caught him, righted him, and Evan cheered.  
  
“Did you see, Daddy? I was standing on my hands!”  
  
“I saw, buddy.” Ronon’s smile was the most beautiful Teyla had ever seen.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Rodney said. “I’ll fix this.”  
  
Teyla knew nothing was broken.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Evan Lorne, what happens when the most reliable, has-it-all-together man loses it...very publicly."
> 
> He turns into a child is what.
> 
> Post-Tabula Rasa.

Even though everyone was officially cured of the weird disease that had robbed them of their memories and Atlantis was back to normal, Sam wasn’t feeling back at a hundred per cent yet, and she had the sense that a lot of other people were still wary about themselves and each other. So she walked the halls on her own informal patrol, as much to reassure the denizens of Atlantis as herself, that everything really was fine, everything was back to normal.  
  
She was startled when she saw Lorne wearing jeans and a t-shirt and meandering slowly down a hall, studying what looked like the screen of a digital camera. While she knew the entire expedition was split into four rotating shifts a day and eight rotating shifts a week so at any given time one eighth of the expedition was on its day off, she’d never actually witnessed Sheppard’s 2IC in anything but perfectly turned out military uniform.  
  
A Marine approached him. “Sir.”  
  
Lorne lifted his head, expression wary. “Hello.”  
  
“Sir, I have a question -”  
  
“Marine, it’s my Sunday. I’m a little busy here.” Lorne waved the camera pointedly.  
  
“But sir -”  
  
“Major Teldy’s 2IC today, sailor. If you have a question, she can answer it.”  
  
“Sir, I -”  
  
“I said no!”  
  
The marine blinked, startled.  
  
Lorne was breathing hard, face flushed, and Sam noticed that his hands were curled into fists.  
  
“I’m sorry sir, I -”  
  
Lorne took a deep breath, shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Just - go. Whatever it is, Teldy can handle it.” He resumed walking.  
  
“I’m not sure she -”  
  
Lorne whipped around. “You have a complaint to lodge against Major Teldy, Marine?”  
  
“Well, I -”  
  
“Take it up with Colonel Sheppard,” Lorne snapped.  
  
The Marine swallowed hard. “Yes, sir, I -”  
  
Lorne, who’d turned away, staggered.  
  
The Marine’s eyes went wide. “Sir?” He reached for Lorne.  
  
Lorne batted his hand aside. “Don’t touch me.” He collapsed to the ground, convulsing.  
  
“Sir!” The Marine dropped to his knees.  
  
Sam tapped her radio. “I need medical to -” She scanned the hallway - “Charlie corridor, level fifteen, west pier, stat! Major Lorne just collapsed.”  
  
Lorne’s camera clattered out of his hand.  
  
“Roll him onto his side,” Sam snapped, and the Marine grasped Lorne, tried to roll him.  
  
Sam knew she was supposed to time the seizure so she could tell Keller, but Lorne was shaking violently, eyes rolled back in his head.  
  
Blue energy sparked out of him.  
  
Sam screamed and recoiled.  
  
The Marine threw himself backward, and they both watched, helplessly, as Lorne was swallowed in blue light. The light glowed brighter and brighter until Sam was forced to cover her eyes and turn away.  
  
And then a child said, “Mama?”  
  
Sam opened her eyes.  
  
Major Lorne was gone. Sitting atop Major Lorne’s empty clothes, swimming in a t-shirt that was slipping off one shoulder, was a little boy with fluffy dark hair and big blue eyes. He yawned and rubbed his eyes sleepily.  
  
“Mama, where’s Daddy?” He smiled at Sam.

She blinked. “Mama? Do - do you mean me?”  
  
He pouted at her. “I’m hungry. Where’s Daddy?”  
  
Keller and a team of nurses came barreling down the hall with a stretcher and medical gear. They skidded to a halt when they saw the little child.  
  
Keller tapped her radio. “Ronon, this is Keller. I need you immediately. It’s happened again.”  
  
“What?” Sam demanded. “What’s happened again?”  
  
The little boy perked up when he saw Keller. “Jennifer!” He jumped up and ran over to her, stumbling on the hem of the t-shirt. She crouched down and pulled him into a hug.  
  
“Evan, buddy, so good to see you!” Jennifer squeezed him tightly, then pressed a kiss into his hair.  
  
“Can I braid your hair?” Evan asked.  
  
“Not right now, buddy. Daddy will be here soon.”  
  
“I’m hungry,” Evan said, and Sam realized. The little boy was Major Evan Lorne. He turned and smiled at Sam. “Mama, wanna go get food?”  
  
“Sure, sweetie,” Sam said. Why was he calling her Mama?  
  
Keller mouthed _go with it_ , and Sam nodded, pasted a smile on her face. She held out a hand, Evan ran back to her, slipped his little hand into hers and beamed up at her.  
  
Keller directed one of the nurses to collect the rest of Lorne’s adult clothes and his camera, and then she turned to the Marine, asked what happened. The Marine shame-facedly admitted that he’d been asking Lorne for help with a problem even though he knew it was Lorne’s day off.  
  
Sam radioed Ronon and told him to meet her in the mess hall, and then she did her best to shorten her stride so little Evan could keep pace with her (he refused to be carried, because he was a big boy now). Sam couldn’t help but stare down at him. Beneath his chubby cheeks and long, long eyelashes, she could barely see the disciplined, ruthlessly efficient officer she commanded. But he was wearing Lorne’s t-shirt and his dog tags and definitely had Lorne’s dimples.  
  
Ronon met them at the entrance to the mess hall.  
  
“Daddy!” As soon as Evan saw him, he dropped Sam’s hand and tore across the corridor, leaped into Ronon’s arms.  
  
Ronon scooped him up and spun him around, smiling widely. Sam had never seen him smile like that before.  
  
Evan placed a wet, sloppy kiss on Ronon’s cheek. “What are we gonna do today, Daddy?”  
  
“First,” Ronon said, “we’re going to eat, and then we can draw, or we can play tag with the Marines, or I can teach you some more Satedan songs, or we can practice handstands. What do you want to do?”  
  
“Draw,” Evan said. He smiled over his shoulder at Sam. “C’mon, Mama!”  
  
“Coming,” Sam said, as brightly as she could muster. She caught Ronon’s eye, and he smoothed a hand over Evan’s hair, expression sorrowful, but then he smiled when Evan looked up at him, and Sam thought that she ought to have looked closer at Lorne’s file after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Any, those awkward interactions after a de-aged character has been re-aged."
> 
> Set immediately post-5x20 Enemy at the Gates, Lorne and Parrish find themselves in a sticky situation and Lorne's solution is child-sized.

What no one on Atlantis knew was that Evan remembered every time he was de-aged. It always felt like a fuzzy dream the day after, but he could remember the details. Curling up next to Elizabeth in bed, knowing she was warm and safe. Playing tag with the Marines. Riding on Ronon’s shoulders around Atlantis. Braiding Cadman’s hair. And the next day was always awkward. The Marines in the KP line tried to give him high-fives and call him _buddy_. Elizabeth wouldn’t look him in the eye. Cadman smiled brightly at him and smoothed a hand over her hair, then remembered she was a lieutenant and he was a major and hurried on her way. And Ronon just looked - sad.

The other thing Evan had told no one, not Heightmeyer, not Beckett, not Keller, not anyone, was that he could feel it coming on. When second childhood was creeping over him. Rodney had been accurate in stating the condition was like a migraine. If Evan sensed it coming on, he could take preventative measures - step back, pause, do some deep breathing, listen to a calming song. But sometimes he just let it happen, because enough was enough.

The look on Woolsey’s face, after being called _Unca Ichard_ for a day, was one for the books. Evan had even done a sketch of it, for posterity’s sake.

So it had never occurred to anyone that he could turn into a child deliberately. All previous instances had happened on Atlantis, usually just after a stressful event, like being kidnapped by the Genii or half of Atlantis being blown up on what was supposed to be a base-wide Sunday, or any number of other horrors that were common fare in the Stargate Program.

The other thing that most members of the Stargate Program took for granted was that Earth was the safest place in two galaxies, because they’d fended off so many alien threats.

So when Evan and Parrish were out for drinks at O’Malley’s, they didn’t think twice about getting a little drunk, drunk enough to warrant calling a cab to get back to base.

Evan realized something was wrong when the cab didn’t make the turn up to the mountain, and he leaned forward between the seats to talk to the driver.

And then the driver hit him in the face and it was chaotic after that.

Evan was a good soldier, but when he was inebriated and trying to fend off a surprise attack and defend a drunken botanist at the same time, his combat skills were poor.

Evan knew it was over when the driver caught him in a headlock and pressed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

His vision turned red, and then it turned dark, and he knew no more.

*

“Lorne, wake up!”

Evan blinked awake slowly. His head throbbed. His face throbbed. He felt like he’d been in a fistfight.

“There’s a reason you soldiers aren’t allowed to drink on base.” Parrish was crouched over him. “You suck at soldiering when you’re drunk.”

Evan heaved himself into a sitting position. “What happened?” They were in a cement cell. There were no windows, and the only door was made of solid steel. A single stark lightbulb hung overhead.

“We’ve been kidnapped.” Parrish sighed and sat back. He didn’t look too worse for wear, a bit grey in the face, circles around his eyes. Hungover.

“By who?”

“I think The Trust. They were talking about taking over Atlantis, how they want you and your Gene.”

Parrish wasn’t a natural gene carrier. Would they consider him expendable? No. He was leverage. They’d probably try to break Evan by torturing Parrish.

“There are Gene carriers all over this city right now.” With Atlantis splashed down in Frisco Bay, the only thing to do was beam all the personnel to the mountain so they didn’t get antsy and accidentally disable the shield or something else disastrous.

“But after Sheppard and Beckett, Atlantis likes you best.”

Evan sighed. “Right.” Sheppard and Beckett had basically been under lockdown at the mountain since the expedition personnel had been returned to the mountain, Sheppard to answer questions about how to deal with Todd the Wraith, Beckett to answer questions about being a clone and his work on the Hoffan virus. Evan, as 2IC, had been allowed out on libo with everyone else once he’d finished his debriefs on his mission aboard the Super Hive. If the Trust wanted to stage a coup and steal Atlantis, Evan was their best bet.

He did a quick inventory of himself. Apart from having been hit in the face, he was unharmed. Parrish reported minimal injuries - they’d been subdued by chloroform in the cab.

They’d been stripped of their cell phones, wallets, keys, watches, and shoes. They hadn’t had their subcutaneous transmitters cut out, but it would be another forty-eight hours before they’d be missed when they failed to report back in after libo. If the Trust was as good as Evan thought they were - and they’d managed to get a Goa’uld into Colonel Caldwell - then they probably had a way to jam the transmitters anyway.

Evan rose up, testing his limbs and mobility. He was hungry and thirsty but not particularly fatigued or weak. There was a bucket in the corner, which didn’t bode well for how long he and Parrish were going to be kept in the cell. Evan and Parrish were unarmed, had no equipment, and no way out.

The vent in the ceiling was something they could reach, but there was no possible way for either Evan or Parrish to fit through the opening.

And then Evan knew what he had to do. He checked, and their cell had no surveillance cameras. That confident, were they, their captors?

“Parrish, I have a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

“I’m going to hoist you up on my shoulders. Unscrew the vent cover.”

Parrish started to nod, then paused. “But neither of us will fit up there.”

“I want to see what’s up there, where it leads. I promise I have a real plan.”

Parrish eyed Evan, then nodded. The screws were in pretty tight, so they ended up yanking the handle off the bucket and grinding it down on the rough cement wall to make a kind of screwdriver, and then Evan did his best to hold steady while Parrish worked.

They got the vent cover off in surprisingly short order.

“Now,” Evan said, “I need you to stand on my shoulders and look into the vent system and tell me what you see.”

“Stand? Are you sure?”

“I can take it.” Evan would never tell anyone, but one of his girlfriends in high school had been a cheerleader, and he’d learned to do some cheer lifts to help her practice her routines. Parrish was taller than Evan but much slenderer by comparison.

“All right. What should I do?”

It took some maneuvering, but then Parrish was standing on Evan’s shoulders.

“Whatcha got, Doc?”

“Just vents. Lots and lots of vents.”

“Do they narrow at all?”

“They’re actually bigger than the vent cover, tight fit for an adult, but still maneuverable. We’re at some kind of crossroads or apex. Four tunnels stretching out in all four directions.”

“All right. I’m going to let you down.”

Parrish landed a little shakily on his feet. “So, what now?”

“Now I need you listen very closely to everything I say. You need to be able to repeat it word for word, all right?” While Evan remembered being a child once he was an adult again, he didn’t remember being an adult when he was a child. As far as his child-self knew, he was a kid on Atlantis. His child-self was, however, good at following directions from an adult.

“All right.”

Evan recited the plan - up the vent, out the building, find the nearest police officer, report himself as kidnapped, demand to see his mother, name his mother as Carter and not Teyla.

“Carter not Teyla,” Parrish said. “Wait - mother? Lorne -”

“Repeat it back to me.”

“But -”

“We don’t have time. They could come at any minute.”

Parrish recited the plan back to Evan, word perfect.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” Evan stepped back, closed his eyes, and let the panic that had been buzzing in the back of his head take over. They’d been kidnapped by the Trust. Parrish was potentially expendable. The Trust wanted to use Evan to take Atlantis.

And then Evan’s world faded.

*

When Evan came back to himself, he was huddled in a police interrogation room wearing only his t-shirt and wrapped in a rough wool emergency blanket.

The door swung open, and Detective Shanahan said, “He was asking for you, insisted you’re his mother, but I know you don’t have any kids - what the hell?”

Carter, wearing black BDUs, stepped into the interrogation room behind Shanahan. “Major.”

“Ma’am, it’s Parrish. They still have him.”

“They who?” Carter asked, eyes narrowed.

Shanahan started to reach for his gun. “I swear, Sam, there was a kid in here.”

“I know,” Carter said. She closed the door.

“But - who is this guy?”

“This is Major Evan Lorne,” Sam said. “He’s with the Stargate Program, like me.”

“But - the kid -”

“Was also me,” Evan said. “Ma’am, we have no time. The Trust kidnapped me and Parrish. Parrish said he heard them talking, that they wanted me specifically, not just my Gene. Without me, they might decide he’s expendable.”

“Why you?” Carter demanded.

Evan darted a glance at Shanahan. Since Carter had said the word _stargate_ in front of him, he had some level of clearance, but -

“Pete’s clear,” Carter said.

“For Atlantis, ma’am. With Sheppard and Beckett on base, the person who has the next highest level of access is me.”

“Pete said a kid showed up, saying he was lost and I was his mother.”

“There was only one way out of the cell, and an adult couldn’t have fit.”

Carter raised her eyebrows. “You can control the transformation?”

“Not exactly. It was an emergency.” Evan ducked his head.

Carter nodded, reached into her pocket for her cell phone. “Pete, get the major some clothes. I need to call this in.” She left the interrogation room with a, “Walter, get me Landry and O’Neill.”

Shanahan stared at Evan for a long moment. “So, you’re in the Stargate Program with Sam.”

“Yes.”

“And you go through the Stargate?”

“I am on a gate team, yes.”

“And you can turn into a little kid.”

“Yes.”

Shanahan blinked. “Right. Weird. Sam always told me it was weird. Glowy-eyed chicks was one thing, but - okay. What sizes are you?”

Evan told him, and Shanahan bustled out, returned with some CSPD sweats a few moments later.

“So, how long have you known Sam?” Shanahan sank down in the chair opposite Evan, sipping some coffee and looking a little shaken.

“Colonel Carter was a couple of years ahead of me in flight school. We saw each other on and off before I was assigned to the program. I’ve served with Colonel Carter in the program for ten years now.”

“So how do you like it?”

“It’s honorable work.”

Shanahan sipped his coffee some more. “You make a cute kid.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told it’s the dimples.”

An awkward silence fell, and then Shanahan said, “So, how are we going to get you out of here? Because we brought a kid in, and -”

“You’ll probably have to lose the paperwork,” Evan said apologetically. “I could just walk out of here. If it’s a big enough emergency, they could just beam me out.”

“Beam you out? Like ‘Beam me up, Scottie’?”

Evan narrowed his eyes. “Just how much do you know about the program?”

Carter returned. “We got a lock on Parrish’s transmitter. The signal’s not strong enough to beam him out, but we got a lock on him. The NID’s dispatched a response team to retrieve him. Good work, Major. Report to Dr. Lam as soon as you’re back on base.” She flashed Shanahan a tight smile. “Thanks, Pete. If you have any questions about how to handle the classified protocol -”

“I got it.” Shanahan waved off her concern. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Major.”

“And you, Detective. I appreciate your help.” Evan stood up, shook Shanahan’s hand, and followed Carter out of the station.

“From now on,” Carter said, “just call me by my rank, all right? ‘Ma’am’ sounds too close to ‘mom’.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

Carter cast him a sidelong look before she slid into the driver’s seat of her car. “Don’t think we won’t be talking about this later.”

“Of course, Colonel.”


End file.
